Art of the Taunt
by Kishyka
Summary: Quick story with a couple of my original characters giving the Decepticons a hard time. I rated it T for some violence, blood  energon , and a bit of torture. I might do some more with this universe later. This is my first fanfic - please be gentle!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Transformers universe is copyright Hasbro. I don't own Transformers or any of their characters, universe, or any other recognizable situations. I do not make money from them. The following is done for entertainment only. I realize I'm taking liberties with some of the personalities and situation. If anyone enjoys it, I will be insanely happy, and if anyone is offended, I'm sorry! Dirge – Decepticon interrogator; Viper and Cyclone-random Decepticons. If these are anyone's characters, I apologize! Electro-motive inhibitor – a design I have been toying with. I love working with electromagnetics, which is why many of my characters have "energy-field" issues. My main characters are jets. Yes, I know it's overdone, but I worked on F-16's for many years so Seekers are my weakness. Dragons are my other weakness. I've actually been working on this universe for a few years. This my first fanfic. Please be gentle!

_**From the Shifters universe by Kishyka**_

Background of the Shifters universe:

Ages ago, when the Transformers from G1 were no more than wicked gleams in the eyes of their creators, there were certain mechs on Cybertron who, for some reason, were created with the ability to shift into a third form, owing to peculiar variations in their electromagnetic fields. This new form, seen by most to be a horrible mutant coding aberration, was semi-organic. The mech would retain their general coloring; plus fliers would have wings, and ground vehicles would not. [This is partially from a non-TF story I am writing called _Shifters, _where some humans can change into anthropomorphic creatures, and another called _Hyperspace_, (until I think of a better title), which deals with the theme of the convergence of organic and mechanical, and where one begins and the other ends – Nova is the main character there.] The affected mechs were generally ostracized. It was only through the efforts of the only shifter Prime, called Cerinos, that the others were given hope for the future. Seeing that their society would never accept them, Cerinos lead her people into exile. As Galadriel said in the J. R. R. Tolkien movie, _The Lord of the Rings_ prologue, "History became legend; legend became myth." The background story, which I am still working on, has the shifters, called "_sarcoa_" or "_spirit rider_" in the language of their adopted world, getting involved with the Autobots and Decepticons, and the problem of old prejudices vs badly-needed allies. The two main characters, Nova and Tirel Stormwalker, are sisters, Seekers (jets), and helping the Autobots. "Klay" or Klayadra Goldwind, is the sarcoa medic. The third form is called "_skaari, or "soul form_." Nova's skaari form is a silver dragon. (Like my persona). Tirel's is a black gryphon. Most of them have been trained to add a simple garment, like a wrap, to their organic form for modesty.

Nova and Tirel may seem like a femme version of the Lambo twins, but they are actually based on the personalities, personas, and antics of two very real humans who, while not sisters by blood, are close enough.

Tirel, this is for you, sis!

My favorite English teacher, back in 19-**cough**, when I was in High School, said the best way to develop your characters is to throw them into weird and disturbing situations. So, here it is!

*****warnings: violence, blood (energon), torture. No slash...yet! Just some hugging between sisters*****

_**The Art of the Taunt**_

Megatron rubbed his temples, staring at a data pad without reading it.

"She did what?" he asked again.

Thundercracker shuffled his pedes and looked down at the dull metal floor.

"She...um...," he raised his optics slightly, preparing to dodge the expected swing. His answer was barely audible and clumped together.

"She-glued-the-Constructicons-together," he flinched and jumped back. Surprisingly, Megatron did not react. He was too busy processing the information.

"How?" the commander snarled.

"It was funny actually-" the Seeker let down his guard – and paid for it.

Megatron roared and backhanded the blue mech, sending sparks flying, then threw the data pad at him. Dazed, the Seeker barely ducked before it shattered against the wall.

"Get the information out of that freak, or I will hold you personally responsible! Do you understand?"

Thunder nodded, backtracking, wiping a drop of energon from his lip. He turned down the adjoining hall at a trot.

Nova stretched out in her cell, optics scanning the room for weaknesses.

"It's a bit smaller than I'm use to," she told a grumbling guard. "But if the room service was better, I could see it getting three stars. Not four though...the butlers are ugly."

Devastator growled to himself, wondering what kind of punishment would be forthcoming for beating the slag out of the silver Seeker before Thundercracker returned, and wondering if it would be worth it. He lifted his optics as the blue Seeker joined him, cursing Megatron under his breath and wiping fresh energon from his lip.

"I told you," he grumbled.

Thunder glared at him, deactivating the energy bars on Nova's cell.

The imprisoned mech looked up with a gleeful smile and sparkling optics as he entered. She had several dermal bruises on her face, and the shackles on her wrists had dug deep grooves in her armor. One was leaking energon.

"I take it Meggy wasn't happy with your report?" she offered.

TC grabbed her cockpit, digging his fingers into the edges, and hauled her to her feet.

"Or was that a love bite he gave you?" she taunted.

TC growled and punched her in the stomach. A sharp intake of air was the only response.

"Where the slag is Dirge?" Thunder called over his shoulder.

Devastator shrugged, stifling a snicker, and jogged off to find him, so he could safely laugh his aft off.

TC brought his face close to Nova's, teeth bared and optics shining with anger.

"Listen, freak," he snarled. "We will get the information we want one way or another. It's best you cooperate."

Nova rolled her optics and cycled air dramatically.

"Oh Primus, No!" her voice wavered, "This can't be happening! No! Somebody get this guy a breath mint!"

Thundercracker slammed her into the wall. The silver Seeker was overcome with a giggling fit. Once, twice, three times he slammed her back into the bulkhead. Finally, a thin crack appeared on her left wing, beading energon. Nova gritted her teeth. She would offline before letting him get to her.

Creeping up to the cell, Devastator shoved Dirge into the room. They exchanged looks of trepidation. Every Decepticon knew Thunder had a long fuse. Unfortunately, it was long gone.

The blue Seeker rounded on Dirge, who flinched unconsciously.

"Break her," he muttered.

"With pleasure," Dirge smiled, watching the prisoner.

As Thunder was stalking out of the brig, Nova swiftly put out her leg and tripped him. He fell sprawling and cursing on the floor. Dirge laughed out loud. He wasn't afraid of the consequences. No one wanted to get on his bad side after all. He shook his head as Devastator hauled the frothing Seeker out of the room and reactivated the energy bars.

"Come back and see me sometime!" Nova called with a fake drawl.

Dirge smiled as he watched the prisoner. This one would be fun to break.

"Dingy Dirgy!" Nova exclaimed as if noticing him for the first time. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Charming to the last, I see," he answered, "I have waited for this day."

"Spare me the monologue and hollow threats," she chuckled. "If you had any courage, you would release me so we could settle this on the battlefield." A brief scowl crossed her face to remind him she was a warrior.

Dirge picked through his tools, finally settling on an old fashioned shock stick to begin with. Megatron was impatient.

"The battle is over," he whispered, drawing close to her.

"Does every Decepticon need a breath mint, or something?" she asked him with feigned sincerity.

He activated the shock stick and instead of using it to strike her, jammed it into her stomach. Nova ground her teeth and arched her back, optics dimmed as pain coursed through her body. He pulled back and she caught herself, cycling air quickly. Slowly, she raised her head, optics quivering slightly.

"Was that a shock stick?" she asked with a wry smile, "or are you just happy to see me?"

"You tell me," he answered, and rammed the stick into her again.

Nova's body convulsed, pulling against the restraints. Hot energon drizzled from both shackles. She gulped air and staggered, somehow managing to stay standing.

"I...I have to admit," she panted, "you're getting better at this. That one almost chipped my paint job."

Dirge shook his head. She was either strong or insane. Funny how fine the line was between those two. He grabbed her by the throat and forced her to look at him.

"Soon, little freak," he whispered.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. She brought her knee up sharply between his legs, catching the exposed cabling on one thigh. His optics flared as he whimpered in pain, holding the sensitive area.

"Someone needs more armor plating," she whistled.

Dirge grabbed the shock stick and stabbed her cockpit with it, forcing her back into the wall and holding her there with the device. Tendrils of energy licked at his hands, but he didn't care. She tensed as pain soaked through her body like cold rain. Bright arcs of energy coursed through her systems. Optics shut tight, her body shook with the onslaught. Split seconds felt like hours. Finally, she slumped against him. He stepped back and shoved her limp form to the floor, disappointed. He had let himself get carried away. No matter, she wasn't out permanently.

Nova forced her optics on line and sucked in fresh air as her body protested. She shook her head to clear it, demanding function of worn circuits. Dirge was seated against the far wall, watching her like a strange experiment. She glared at him and stiffened. The Decepticon cracked a smile as he rapped his knuckles against the panel behind him.

"See this?" he began. "This is an electro-motive inhibitor. It'll keep you from changing into your little freaky form or pulling any other tricks until we get what we need."

Nova gave him a look that would have curdled energon.

There was no way he could know the danger of suppressing the shift. If the Decepticons found out, it would give them a great advantage. She intended for them to remain ignorant. Cautiously, she tested control of her energy field. It flared slightly and quivered, but remained steady. Great.

Nova quickly hid her fear behind a suave mask.

"One form is just the same as another," she told him as she pushed herself up. "I don't need to shift to make a pit of your world."

Dirge chuckled. Did he know?

"Why don't we discuss some details about your people," he began.

"My people...are your people," she said quietly.

"Not even close," his optics darkened.

The Seeker's optics flared as the interrogator approached her. She met him with a wry smile and haughty glare.

"We're evolved," she told him, "far beyond you."

"Yet here you are," he offered, "my prisoner."

"For now," she answered, locking emerald optics onto his.

Careful to stay just out of her reach, Dirge picked up the shock stick again and waved it around.

"Not a creative circuit in your body, is there?" she laughed.

The interrogator shrugged, "I just wanted to give you one more chance to talk willingly."

"Sure," she sighed, "let's talk."

Dirge raised an eye ridge.

"Megatron is a flaming lunatic," she began with feigned difficulty, "Starscream can't hit the broad side of a mother ship; My creator had more telepathic ability in one chip than Soundwave has in his entire system; Devastator fights like a wounded pyrobird-"

The shock stick flashed across her cheek, sending a solid wall of pain through her head. She cycled air quickly, barely missing a beat.

"Skywarp can't even recharge without Thundercracker telling him to; Cyclone drinks so much high grade his processor is fried; Viper has his dermal plating welded to Megatron's aft-"

Dirge shoved the shock stick into her cockpit over and over until she could no longer stand. Bright arcs of energy lit up the tiny cell, dancing on the energon pouring from her wounds. He shoved her to the ground and pinned her arms above her, legs astride her waist.

Nova struggled under the Decepticon's weight, fighting to draw in enough air as her systems swam with heat and pain. Her vision blurred with static. Dirge threw the shock stick aside and grabbed a cutting laser. He brought the hot tip close to Nova's optic and grinned.

"What part," he whispered, "do you want to lose first?"

She grinned broadly. "The aft-port who's sitting on me."

Dirge activated the cutting laser, watching the red light dance over their armor. Nova sucked in air as the tip flared to life, but quickly composed herself and stared into his optics. One of his hands held her weakened arms as the other moved the device to her down-swept wing. The Seeker shivered almost imperceptibly.

"How 'bout a little off the tip?" he chuckled.

Light fixtures flashed and normalized as the energy bars were deactivated. Dirge cursed under his breath and looked up to his leader. Megatron stood with his arms folded, tapping a pede lightly.

"Come on, Meggy," the jet wheezed, "can't little Dirgy play a bit longer?"

Dirge slashed the laser through her left wing. Nova's gasp caught and faltered as the beam cut a deep slice in the metal.

"Dirge..." Megatron stated, one curious eye ridge lifted.

He snarled and stabbed the beam into her shoulder, boring a deep hole in the circuitry. Nova cried out in spite of her best efforts.

"Dirge!" the warlord commanded.

Overjoyed at the sounds his prisoner was making, the interrogator threw the device aside and pounded the fresh wound with his clenched fist. Pain coursed through her body as energon was smeared over her fuselage. A strangled cry was the only sound she could make.

"DIRGE!" the warlord bellowed.

Grumbling, he finally rose and followed Megatron out of the cell. The energy bars flared to life again. Nova's systems were in chaos. Exhaust circuits strained to quell the heat as half-functioning protocols struggled to make critical repairs. Her energy levels were dangerously low to begin with, so she halted the repairs after a few vital patches were made. She shook her head, causing the room to spin. It would be night soon. No sense in wasting energy. As she powered down, she heard voices filter up the hall, and Megatron asking Dirge why he was walking funny.

In the darkness of the brig, ghostly light from the cell doors added to the ambiance, and environmental controls were seldom used. The air was sticky and hot from the myriad systems which branched through this area, even so far beneath the ocean. One could almost hear the tortured cries of prisoners from long ago, echoing in the deep hallways. Occasional breezes caused by a door far off stirred the acrid smell of melted components and decay. As night settled quietly onto it's throne, the last guard slipped off to a remote cargo hold for some unauthorized recharge.

Somewhere in the blackness, a tiny chronometer circuit met its Boolean string, and gently prodded the other systems online. The central processor limped on duty and tried to normalize the other circuits. It didn't want to wake up. It was so tired and sore. Just a few more minutes. It hit the electrical equivalent of a snooze button once before finally rousing the mech. Shimmering green optics cracked open and bruised extremities twitched.

Nova pushed herself up to sit against the bulkhead, slipping momentarily in a pool of energon. She regarded it briefly, calling to mind an old teaching.

_ "Energon helps sustain life, but energon is not life."_

Easy for them to say, she thought, leaning her head back against the wall to think. Her optics caught the small pricks of light on the inhibitor panel. She was too far away to reach it, and the shackles had been stubborn.

_"Life comes from the universe..."_

The door locks were predictably out of her reach as well. Searching the cell for anything usefully, her optics came to rest on the shock stick, discarded haphazardly when Dirge left. Stretching against the chains, she retrieved it and set about taking the device apart. She worked carefully, disassembling the delicate components of such a brutal instrument. The Seeker smiled gleefully as she removed the stick's power crystal and held it up: a tiny prism of mirrors, stained pink in the glow of the door beams.

Nova hated the color pink.

With a quick prayer, she tossed the crystal into the doorway. Bolts of energy bounced off the tiny facets, striking each opposing wall and short circuiting the cell. In seconds, the beam generators were damaged and smoldering, and the room was all but swallowed in blackness. It had been a long shot, but enough of the emitters were damaged that the brig's entire system failed. Shackles now void of energy enhancement, she was able to break them open.

Now to get out of here, she thought, before I wake every Decepticon on base. She sneered at the inhibitor panel and started out, but on another thought, returned just long enough to dig the processing components out. These would be useful.

Waiting for a patrol shift change to make her escape was the easy part. The Decepticons had evidently become complacent and overconfident. Though she lacked Tirel's ability to control the shadows, Nova did a fair job of hiding when she put her mind to it. The young warrior was not use to hiding and preferred direct contact, but once in a long while she accepted the need to simply stay out of sight.

The sun was just coming up when she reached a far hilltop and stopped to rest. Away from the confines of the cell, she drank in a deep drought of crisp air as her form shimmered. She exhaled as her systems slowly transformed, circuits to cells, fans to lungs, armor plate to scale and skin, and sleek silver wings to their organic counterpart. Her left wing was broken, and a new wave of pain washed over her as she settled into the _skaari_ form. She tested her muscles, flexing stiff talons and raising her emerald eyes to the infant dawn. Straining against the injuries, she raised her wings high to be warmed by the morning. Muscles and tendons stretched and aligned themselves with deep metal struts.

The silver dragon threw her head back in a roaring screech, calling to her kind, cries sent as sound and vibration. Eyes remained fixed on the land beyond as the beast lay down for a few moments rest along a rocky ledge. She reached out a tentative claw and stroked the mossy rocks, beads of morning dew forming on her wings. Smelling the air, she carefully made her way down to a pond.

Nova's form shimmered briefly as her garments melded with her body. She settled into the water and tried to relax, feeling the cool rivulets over her raw wounds. She splashed her eyes and washed the caked energon from her face. The dragon stopped and listened, smiling as a familiar presence entered her energy field.

"Beat all to slag," the shadows said as they coalesced, "and yet the first thing you do is take a bath."

Nova looked up with a tired grin as the ebony griffin's form took shape. Tirel plopped down at the water's edge and took a drink.

"You didn't stay long," the newcomer added.

"You know, I got bored," the dragon shrugged.

Tirel leaped from the pond's edge and dove into the water, wrapping her sister in a tight hug.

"Primus!" she hissed, "don't scare me like that!"

Nova embraced her sibling with all the strength she could muster, which wasn't much. Tirel buried her face against Nova's neck, hiding a few traitorous tears. The dragon put on her best nonchalant grin.

"I'm fine, really," she bared gleaming fangs. Tirel, of course, wasn't buying it.

"Kay will have to make that call," Tirel told her.

Nova splashed her.

"Maybe after my bath."


	2. Chapter 2

(Please see the first chapter for story and universe background.)

**Disclaimer**: Transformers universe is copyright Hasbro. I don't own Transformers or any of their characters, universe, or any other recognizable situations. I do not make money from them. The following is done for entertainment only.

Chapter 2... Warning

Ratchet rested his head in one hand as he scribbled away at a data pad. Outside, Earth's sun was setting in a brilliant array of gold and red. As he had become accustomed to the planet's day cycle, and as he had little recharge the night before, his energy was fading with the light. On the other side of his office, the sarcoa Klayadra was working furiously on her reports. But he noticed the occasional telltale nod of her head when she stared too long at a particular paragraph, followed by a whispered expletive as she retyped the section.

Faint voices filtered up the hall. Warm gentle air hissed from the overhead filtration units as the chill of night settled in. Crickets chirped their tender lullaby and both CMOs lingered a little too long on their last data entry, soft air cycles whispering a relaxing melody in the stillness.

"We've got a problem!"

Ratchet and Klayadra sat bold upright as the Seeker sisters marched into the office, disturbing their unintended rest. Nova tossed a burned microchip to the sarcoa medic.

"What is this?" Klay turned the chip over, examining the unfamiliar markings.

The silver Seeker took an uninvited seat on Klay's desk. "The 'Cons called in an 'electromotive inhibitor'."

Klay swore in her own language.

"Mean anything?" Nova watched her CMO.

"They're illegal," Klay muttered. Ratchet leaned over her shoulder to get a better look.

"Tell that to the 'Cons," Tirel grumbled, leaning on the cluttered desk beside her Air Commander.

"But this is different," rubbing her optics, the gold and green mech set the chip aside and began typing on her computer.

"What in the..." Ratchet wasn't sure what to make of the small component. Bent traces dug into the cracking structure. It had clearly seen better days.

"You alright, Nova?" Klay asked without looking up. The silver Seeker stole a glance at her sister and shifted positions to better hide her injuries. Tirel just looked away with a wry smile.

"Fine!" she beamed.

Ratchet glared at her.

"And I'm a Prime," he muttered. Klay just shook her head. She knew exactly what was going on, but this took precedence. If her fears were correct, they were all in danger.

Klay stopped at a particular entry and read it closely. The runes meant nothing to Ratchet, but he could tell by the look of his counterpart that it wasn't good news.

"We have to tell Keldawn and Optimus," she growled.

"They're recharging," Ratchet argued as she jumped from her seat and hurried out, followed closely by the Seekers.

""Trust me," she called, "They'll want to see this."

The last time, excluding battles, that Optimus had been awoken this abruptly involved Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and several tons of Play-dough® . Now as he sat hunched over the broad conference room table, struggling to keep his optics online, the Autobot commander hoped for their sakes it was an actual emergency. Across from him, the sarcoa commander Keldawn yawned and rubbed his eyes. Optimus never imagined he would be sharing the meeting with an enormous white bear.

"So who got a new polka dot paint job during recharge, this time?" Keldawn asked as the medics entered, followed by Nova and Tirel.

Ah, a kindred soul. Optimus smiled. He knew he liked Kel for a reason, bear or not.

Ratchet glanced at Klay and raised his optics. She obviously knew what was going on. He sure wished he did.

"No one, Kel," she finally answered. "We have a new problem."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?" he asked.

"There's something you need to know about us, Optimus," Klay continued, carefully.

Optimus raised an eyeridge. What could possibly come up to make their tenuous alliance with the Sarcoa more complicated?

"We have to shift forms," she announced to a clueless audience.

Ratchet and Prime exchanged empty looks.

"No," Tirel broke in, "what she means is we _have_ to shift. If we stay in one form too long, it causes problems."

"What kind of problems?" Optimus asked, not sure he wanted to know.

"Lots of problems," the Sarcoa medic continued, "severe pain, disorientation, hallucination, cascading damage to major systems, and even, if it goes on long enough, permanent deactivation."

"Could this be used to gain information?" Ratchet tried.

"It's not a very useful form of interrogation," Klay told him, "as the victim quickly loses his or her mind."

Nova narrowed her optics and crossed her arms tightly over her cockpit.

"It is, however, a popular form of execution," the medic explained carefully.

Prime swallowed. "Do the Decepticons have this information?"

Klay held up the chip. "They know how to do it," she sighed, "but so far we don't think they don't know the damage it can do."

The Autobot commander leaned back in his seat and tried to think. Ratchet was the first to voice his concerns.

"So, how often do you have to shift?"

"It varies," Klay told him, "it really depends on the individual."

Keldawn turned to his Autobot counterpart and tried to elaborate.

"Take us, for example," he began slowly. "I can go a month, maybe two. Tirel and Nova, a few weeks."

Optimus cocked his head.

"Whereas Klayadra here," he continued, "has to shift multiple times per day."

Klay cycled air heavily and looked down. Surprisingly, it was Nova who came to her defense.

"A medic's systems change constantly in order to help their patients," the Air Commander explained. "As her energy field fluctuates to meet the demands of treating various wounds, she shifts back and forth to correlate treatment between organic and mechanical systems."

Klay smiled slightly and nodded.

Optimus tapped on the table nervously. "So where exactly did the Cons get this thing?"

"That's the scary part," Klay answered. "There's only one place to get these – on our homeworld, Srilar."

Even behind his mask, Optimus' gaping stare was evident.

"I thought the Srilari were peaceful," Ratchet snapped at the Seekers, "you said they would support us."

Nova's optics flared. "You can't expect an entire planet to follow the same ideals. Yes, most of them are peaceful and want nothing more than for these wars to end. But some are disillusioned with the whole fragging thing!"

Tirel put what she hoped was a calming hand on Nova's wing.

"We can barely fight a war on one front," the Autobot CMO continued, "now you're telling us that your perfect little planet may harbor enemies?"

The Air Commander shook off her sister's grasp and balled her fists, optics gleaming. "I'm telling you they're sentient, civilized creatures. The Cons have lied to you – how many more have they lied to? The Srilari aren't use to the two-faced, backstabbing mechs we're dealing with."

"And some of your little peace-loving aliens are helping the Cons," Ratchet growled, advancing on her.

"Which would never have happened," Nova added through gritted denta, meeting his stare, "if we hadn't been kicked off the planet in the first place!"

Optimus and Kel rushed to place themselves between the two mechs, who looked as if they might come to blows at any moment.

"We need to step back and address this calmly," Kel told them.

"He's right," Optimus added, placing a hand on Ratchet's shoulder, "we don't know for sure if the Srilari are involved, just that it likely came from the planet."

"Nova took in a deep cycle of air and nodded. "It's true, Optimus, we could be dealing with a faction outside of their control."

"Look," Keldawn tried softly, "I know we don't want to believe the Srilari are capable of this, but until we know for sure, we have to investigate every angle."

Optimus nodded, "Judging from your descriptions, this technology is too dangerous. We have to find the source."

The Seekers exchanged a wary glance. Ratchet ignored them and spoke up.

"I'd like Wheeljack to take a look at it."

The Autobot commander sighed and nodded, "perhaps he can uncover some details which will aid in tracing it's origin. Ratchet, you and Klayadra assist Wheeljack."

"Let us know," Keldawn added, "if you find anything useful."

Nova grumbled something about wasting time, which earned her a swift jab from her sister's elbow.

"And you," Klay rounded on the silver Seeker, "it's late and you above all need rest. But bright and early I want you in med bay."

"I'm fine-" the Air Commander began, only to be grabbed by the wing and hauled unceremoniously out of the room by her sister, but not before she sent one final warning glare to Ratchet.

"She hates me," he muttered.

Klay patted his arm, genuinely trying to calm the situation.

"She doesn't hate you," she purred, "just your civilization."


End file.
